I would have you all know that on Monday, I cooked. Yup. Me, in the kitchen. You might remember in my last Friday’s post that there was about as much chance of a pig flying than me starting to cook. Well, the world is full of amazing and incredible things including, evidently, flying swine.
I figured it was high time that I got off my rump and actually took some action. The fact that I sit here some days later writing this is evidence that at least I didn’t murder anyone in the process. Once I determined where all the necessary pots were located, and the spices, and the stove, I was well on my way. I hit an almost insurmountable obstacle when the recipe instructed to “grease the dish”. Having a real aversion to butter or anything oily that is supposed to be ingested, I was fortunate that Sarah was there to save the day. In the end, some two hours later, I presented my masterpiece to a somewhat nervous family. It was an exceedingly fancy dish, with an even fancier name: Gratin Dauphinois. Okay, basically scalloped potatoes, but this is not the Iron Chef after all.
It was, shall we say, a somewhat tolerable experience, although I can’t speak for the family. If I were pushed, I might even admit that I did take some real satisfaction from taking a dish from stem to stern so to speak.
That’s certainly one great thing about this year. It has really forced us to change habits that badly needed changing, and is helping to create new and more constructive ones. Now, the kids might question whether my cooking is a step in the right direction, and I don’t blame them. But at the very least it will impress upon them how fortunate they are to have Sarah’s cooking. Actually, we might even be able to use this to our parental advantage: “You better behave or…or…Dad will cook again!”
Fortunately, we have good kids, so we probably won’t have to take out those big guns anytime soon.
But, I suppose, cooking – like anything – improves with practice. I could commit to once a week I guess. You know, in the spirit of Austerity and all that. Who knows, I might actually come to like it. Then again, maybe snakes will smoke. Glenn